


For a Broken Man

by toyhto



Series: In the Shadows [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flint goes back to New Providence after everything and meets Billy there, M/M, Slightly different ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto
Summary: “Billy Bones is living in your house,” Silver said slowly, “with you, and you don’t know if he’s going to leave.”
Relationships: Billy Bones/Captain Flint | James McGraw
Series: In the Shadows [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978000
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	For a Broken Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Different Ending AU. I know the ending is the best part of Black Sails but for purely fanfictional purposes, I just had to change it. So, in this story, Silver talked Flint to giving up the war on the Skeleton Island but without Thomas to bargain with.
> 
> Also, I don't know if the house where Eleanor died was Flint and Miranda's house but I kind of imagine that it is and in this story, we're going with that head canon.
> 
> That being said, this story is surprisingly sappy. This is also a part of a series but I don't think you have to let that bother you.
> 
> Trigger warning for vague-ish self-destructive thinking! Flint is a little lost after giving up his war. 
> 
> [Also, my tumblr.](http://toyhto.tumblr.com)

1.  
  
  
  
He heard a rumour that Billy Bones was in Nassau. Of course it was a lie. Even if Billy had managed to swim to the shore on Skeleton Island, there was no way he could have gotten out of the island. He would have died there. And even if somehow he had found a way to sail away from that island, he would have never come back to Nassau.  
  
So, when people told him they had seen Billy Bones, he ignored them and walked away. It didn’t matter to him anyway. He didn’t want anything from Billy, not a judgement, not a chance for revenge, not other things that he didn’t much feel like putting into words. He was done with all that. He was only here in Nassau because there hadn’t been anywhere else to go and because Silver had brought him here after taking his war away from him. He would stay here only a little longer, and then he would leave for good, and if he still didn’t know where, that didn’t matter. He would go and never come back.  
  
But one evening, when he had been back in Nassau for two months, he went to his porch and saw Billy Bones standing at the yard.  
  
He reached for his gun but it turned out he didn’t have it with him. Not his sword, either. Well, that was bad. He had finally lost his mind. He took a deep breath, looking at Billy who had both a gun and a sword and who wasn’t reaching for either of them.  
  
“I should probably shoot you.”  
  
“You don’t have your gun,” Billy said. He had got rid of the beard.  
  
“I could go inside and fetch it.”  
  
“Don’t you think I’m going to shoot you in the back?”  
  
Flint shrugged. Then he turned and walked back inside, and there he sat down at the table and closed his eyes. _Fucking hell._ He didn’t need this. He didn’t _want_ this. He didn’t want to be left to decide what to do with Billy Bones who obviously wasn’t going to shoot him in the back. Too bad. That would’ve solved many problems, such as what the fuck he was going to do with the rest of his life.  
  
“Your house,” Billy’s voice said from behind his back.  
  
He didn’t turn to look. Maybe Billy just preferred to do it in the kitchen instead of the porch. What a nice gesture. And he probably should’ve put up a fight, maybe try to kill Billy, but he really didn’t have the energy. He had been feeling strangely old ever since he had gotten back from the Skeleton Island as some kind of an unrecognisable creature tamed by John Long Silver. He had walked back to his house, and here he had tried to fix things up the best he could, save anything he could save, buy new things, clean the place, that kind of things. It was an impossible task and still it hadn’t kept him busy enough.  
  
“It burned down,” he told Billy, looking at his own hands on the table. “A Spanish soldier. Killed Eleanor and burned down my house.”  
  
“Shit.”  
  
“Yeah. I’ve tried to…” He breathed out. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to stay.”  
  
“Are you sure it’s safe to be inside? What if the whole thing collapses on you?”  
  
He snorted. The house hadn’t collapsed on him yet, so probably he wouldn’t have any luck at that front in the future, either.  
  
“If you’re looking for your pistol,” Billy said slowly and took a step towards him, “it’s on the chair. Right there.”  
  
He glanced at the pistol. It would be a fitting end to the story, he and Billy Bones shooting each other in the head with no audience. Maybe the roof would collapse on them.  
  
He bit his lip and turned to look at Billy. Now in the flickering light he could see that Billy’s face had healed but not wholly. There were still marks on him about whatever it was that the maroons had done to him in Mr. Underhill’s plantation. Maybe he blamed Flint for that. He could as well have. About everything that had gone wrong, that was one of few things that hadn’t been Flint’s decisions.  
  
“I heard you were in Nassau,” Flint said. “Didn’t believe it. And sure as hell didn’t think you’d come to see me.”  
  
Billy looked away from him. He was standing in the middle of the room now. He looked too big.  
  
“Sit down.”  
  
Billy glanced at him, took the nearest chair slowly as if already regretting it, and sat down.  
  
He swallowed. “You’re still taking orders.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Billy said, his voice too sharp.  
  
“I thought you were dead.”  
  
“You’ve thought that I was dead before,” Billy said and blinked. “You’ve tried to kill me before.”  
  
“I didn’t.”  
  
“You don’t know that. It’s just a convenient lie after everything we’ve been through.”  
  
_Everything we’ve been through.  
  
_Bloody fucking hell.  
  
“I thought I hated you before,” Billy said, not really looking at him now. “Before it all began. Before we… you know. But it was nothing. It was nothing compared to what I’ve… you both betrayed me, you and Silver.”  
  
“You betrayed us too.”  
  
“It’s different. There was two of you.”  
  
He took a deep breath and straightened his back. “Really? That’s what we’re talking about?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re jealous of me and him.”  
  
“No,” Billy said too quickly. “No, I’m not. It’s not like I want anything from you. Our arrangement…”  
  
“Yeah. Our _arrangement._ ”  
  
“It doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
_Didn’t mean anything,_ Flint thought, crossing his arms. “Yeah. I suppose it doesn’t.”  
  
“But you’ve got no idea,” Billy said, leaning towards him over the table. He wanted to lean back but didn’t. Billy was staring at him now, his eyes blue and wild, and he was as pretty as ever. “You’ve got no idea what I’ve done.”  
  
Flint took a deep breath. So, that was what they were talking about now. He remembered rushing to the shore with Silver on the Skeleton Island. He remembered helping men out of the water, and Billy Bones in the boat with a rifle. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”  
  
“You didn’t see all of it,” Billy said in a tight voice. “And I can’t regret it. I can’t. If I start regretting it…”  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
Billy opened his mouth and then closed it. Goddamn, his mouth. Flint looked away, at the porcelain cups on the shelf. He didn’t much appreciate the irony that they had survived all that had happened to his house.  
  
“Billy,” he said to the porcelain cups, “you don’t have a fucking clue about the things I’ve done. You could never. And I can’t count them. I just can’t. Silver made me give all that up and now nothing of it makes sense. Everything I did was for nothing and I don’t know what to do with it.” He paused. He shouldn’t have been talking about it. He had tried writing a diary but writing all of it down had only made him want to kill himself. He woke up every morning and didn’t know what to do with himself, went to sleep every evening and kind of hoped he wouldn’t wake up, because what the fuck he was supposed to do? He wasn’t Captain Flint anymore. He had promised Silver he would stop trying to make the whole world burn. But he sure as hell wasn’t James McGraw either, because James McGraw would never be able to carry the weight of everything he had done.  
  
And besides, what James McGraw was carrying instead of the countless faces of men who had followed him and whom he had gotten killed, was unbearable in its own way.  
  
“You and me,” he said to Billy, “we’re even. If you want to.”  
  
Billy didn’t answer.  
  
“Or you could kill you if you like. I don’t know what to do with myself.” He looked up at Billy. “Most of my books burned with the house.”  
  
Billy was watching him, unmoving, too big for his house, too big for any place. A kind face with sad eyes. Maybe that was his type. Maybe he found kind people and destroyed them.  
  
“I’m broken,” he said. “Have been for a long time. But now… I don’t have anywhere to hide.”  
  
“Because your house burned down.”  
  
He bit his lip, trying not to smile. “Yeah. And because there’s nothing left of my war.”  
  
“Nassau seems fine, though,” Billy said slowly. “I was in the town for a few days. Barely got any sleep, thinking someone’s going to slit my throat. But it seems that everything’s going well enough.”  
  
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.” Flint cleared his throat. “So, you haven’t slept in a few days. That’s why you look like that.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Don’t worry,” he said, looking down at his own hands. “You’ve still got it.”  
  
Now Billy was quiet for a few seconds. “I’ve got what?”  
  
_Your looks_ , Flint thought. Maybe he hadn’t lost his mind after all, because at least he knew to keep his mouth shut. And he knew he was being ridiculous. The last time he had seen Billy, Billy had tried to kill him. He had tried to kill Billy. He thought he had. And now, here they were. And this wasn’t the first time. And what he was thinking about was Billy’s face. “So, you were jealous of Silver,” he said.  
  
“No, I wasn’t.”  
  
“Good. Let’s try this.” He swallowed. “Get up.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Billy said in a voice that made it obvious he knew exactly what Flint was doing. He probably didn’t know what to think about it. But then again, he had come here.  
  
“Now, if you could be so kind.”  
  
Billy looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hit Flint in the face or shoot him, but he got onto his feet and then waited there while Flint looked at him. _God,_ he was pretty. And a very bad idea. But there was nothing left, and nothing mattered, and he had too much to regret for one lifetime but what could happen here wasn’t amongst those things.  
  
“Good,” he said to Billy. Billy flinched. “Now, get me on my feet.”  
  
“Just stand up,” Billy said.  
  
“No,” Flint said. “You make me. And then you’re going to get me onto the floor.”  
  
Billy looked a little tired. “We’re going to do it on the floor?”  
  
“Yeah,” Flint said and then cleared his throat. “Where did you want to do it?”  
  
“In bed,” Billy said.  
  
  
**  
  
  
This wasn’t the same bed where he had slept with Miranda. That one had burned. And it didn’t matter anyway. Miranda was dead. He was barely the same man anymore. But still he felt like he was betraying someone. Maybe himself. He tried to say that out loud but couldn’t speak, and it wouldn’t have sounded right anyway, and also Billy already had him.  
  
“Hey,” Billy said, digging his fingers into Flint’s shoulder as he pushed into him. “You’re quiet.”  
  
“I’m not,” he said, closing his eyes. Maybe if he kept his eyes shut, he would forget that they were in his bed. In his _home._  
  
“Yeah, you are.”  
  
“I’m not.” He bit his lip and put the flat of his palm against the headboard as Billy pushed into him harder. “Why do you care?”  
  
“Last time,” Billy said, breathing against the back of his neck, “last time you… talked a lot.”  
  
“I didn’t.”  
  
“Sure you did. You told me about…”  
  
_Fuck._  
  
“A man you loved.”  
  
“Maybe you should forget that.”  
  
“I don’t _mind_ ,” Billy said, still fucking him, which was the only fucking good thing in this whole mess. He didn’t want to talk about Thomas. He couldn’t, not now that he didn’t have any reason to stop. All he wanted was Billy Bones to fuck him and get him off and then leave him be.  
  
Maybe Billy still had a chance. In life. He could go somewhere and be somewhere else. He was young. There was still time to forget everything that needed to be forgotten. He certainly didn’t want to be dragged down with Flint. Not this time.  
  
“It’s just weird,” Billy said, taking a tight grip on Flint’s shoulder and changing the angle a little. Flint’s knees almost gave out. “You talking about a man you loved while I’m fucking you.”  
  
“I’m not talking now. Just –“  
  
“As if you want me to think that you have…” Billy paused to pull out and back in again. “Feelings.”  
  
“I have feelings,” Flint said. “I have fucking feelings, alright, now, can you just shut up and –“  
  
“What kind of feelings?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
Billy was quiet for a moment, except for the sound of his breathing. “About me?”  
  
“No,” Flint said. He tried to take a deep breath, but Billy slammed into him. “Yeah. I don’t know. You’ve tried to kill me _a lot_ lately.”  
  
“Yeah,” Billy said. “And still, here I am.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“In your bed.”  
  
“I didn’t want to do this in the bed.”  
  
“I tried not to come,” Billy said. “I told myself I wouldn’t come. Because there’s absolutely no reason why we should… why you and me…”  
  
“Billy,” Flint said when Billy stopped talking, “can you _please_ get your hand on my dick now?”  
  
“What? Are you in a hurry or something?”  
  
“ _Yes._ ”  
  
“You like it when I fuck you,” Billy said, still not touching his dick, and he wasn’t exactly sure if Billy’s cock in his arse felt good anymore or if it was just too much, like everything else. Every fucking thing was too much for him these days. He should have died sooner. He should have somehow convinced Silver to shoot him in that island. “You like it,” Billy went on, “and you talk to me about love, and then you let me come back and fuck you even though I almost killed you the last time.”  
  
“ _I_ almost killed _you_ ,” Flint said, but his voice didn’t sound right. _Shit._  
  
Billy froze.  
  
“Just keep going.”  
  
“Are you…”  
  
“Fuck me,” Flint said, hanging his head low in between his shoulders. This was his bed. It could as well be his and Miranda’s. He had let Billy in. And Billy was all there was, really, the only thing to hold onto anymore, and he was just too tired, too fucking tired, and he couldn’t see past this. “Fuck me, Billy,” he said, but his voice was trembling and he knew Billy could tell.  
  
“Captain,” Billy said and pulled his dick out but let his palm rest on the low of Flint’s back. “Did I…”  
  
“No,” Flint said. _Bloody fucking hell._ These past two months, he hadn’t cried at all. He had been afraid that once he started, there wouldn’t be the end of it. “This isn’t about you.”  
  
Billy sat down on the mattress next to him, and he lay down on his stomach. His dick was still half-hard but there was nothing he was going to do about that now.  
  
“Captain,” Billy said, touching his neck.  
  
“I’m not your captain.”  
  
“You are when I’m fucking you.”  
  
“That doesn’t even make sense.”  
  
“I hate you so much,” Billy said, running fingers down his back. “I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve had dreams about you.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Yeah. Don’t know why.”  
  
“You’re mad,” he said and rolled onto his side to face Billy. “We’re both mad.”  
  
“Yeah,” Billy said, watching him.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He didn’t cry almost at all. It didn’t count. When he finally managed to talk Billy into finishing him with his hand, it didn’t feel exactly good. He was shaking and didn’t know what anything was about and he kind of wanted Billy to hit him in the face, but Billy didn’t do that. Maybe he should have suggested that Billy would get his dick back into him, but he was too tired and too close to coming and that would take time. He came in Billy’s hand and then watched as Billy wiped his hand against the sheets. He thought Billy’s arms had been thicker before. Maybe that was what almost dying did for you.  
  
“What’re you looking at?” Billy asked in a sour voice.  
  
“Your arms.”  
  
“My _arms._ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Billy turned to look at him. “You’re watching my _arms._ ”  
  
“Come here,” he said, and Billy shifted closer to him on the mattress. He reached to wrap his fingers around Billy’s cock. Judging by the voice Billy let out, this wouldn’t take long. “Did I ever tell you,” he said, squeezing a little around the head, which made Billy frown in the best possible way, “I didn’t mean anything like this to happen. I hadn’t… I didn’t think much about fucking. I was kind of busy with other things.”  
  
Billy groaned.  
  
“Good,” he said, shifted closer to Billy and grabbed Billy’s chin with his free hand. Billy glared at him but let him push the tip of his forefinger into his mouth. “And I hadn’t fucked any other man. Not since Thomas and I… not since him. I didn’t plan it. But you were just there, and you were so pretty, and you were still following me even though you thought I had tried to kill you on the Andromache, and…” He could feel Billy’s teeth closing around his finger. “You looked at me as if you were offering something. Don’t bite me.”  
  
“Come on,” Billy said, only it sounded a little blurred.  
  
“I didn’t mean to take it.”  
  
“Flint,” Billy said, still not quite biting his finger.  
  
“You want to come?”  
  
Billy stared at him. He sped up his hand.  
  
“It was never a good idea,” he said, “for us to fuck, but you were so…“  
  
“My arms,” Billy said around Flint’s finger.  
  
He laughed out loud. _Oh, god._ “Yeah. Your _arms._ ” And then he slipped his finger out of Billy’s mouth, because Billy was coming and he didn’t want to lose a finger.  
  
  
**  
  
  
He almost dozed off. Billy was still in his bed when he stumbled onto his feet and went outside to take a piss. It was a quiet night. All nights were, these days.  
  
“You want me to go?”  
  
He glanced over his shoulder. He was still standing at the yard, and Billy was watching him from the porch. Billy looked like he was trying to hold himself steady against the wind or holding his breath before a fight, but maybe he was just cold.  
  
“No,” Flint said and started walking back. “I don’t think I’ve never seen you naked like that.”  
  
Billy frowned at him.  
  
“We’ve kind of had a habit of… not taking our clothes off.”  
  
“You’re naked too,” Billy said sharply, as if it was an accusation. As if it didn’t make it worse. One naked man after fucking was power, two was…  
  
He didn’t know what it was, but it felt familiar in a way that squeezed his heart.  
  
“I don’t want you to go,” he said, refusing to think about what it would do to his heart. He placed his hand on Billy’s shoulder and squeezed lightly, and Billy stared at him but didn’t do anything about it. When he went back in, Billy followed. The house felt like a different place now that Billy was standing next to the wall, leaning his hand against the chair Flint had fixed a few days ago. They didn’t fit in here. He walked to the bed, took their clothes, went back and tossed Billy’s clothes at the man. “Hungry?”  
  
“Not really,” Billy said and then was quiet for a few seconds. “What did you –“  
  
“I’ve got something. Bread, at least.”  
  
“Thanks,” Billy said, so he gave Billy bread. He had butter, too. They sat at the table, now wearing clothes again. Billy ate the bread Flint gave him and eventually said something about nothing. About the rebuilding of the town. About the sea. About the porcelain cups on the shelves. Flint tried to answer and it felt like speaking a foreign language. A little like before, when he had used to come home from the sea and find Miranda here, and he had tried to make himself talk like a normal person, not a pirate captain with new blood in his hands every time.  
  
He wasn’t sure why he was trying now. And Billy was looking at him as if he didn’t know why Flint was trying either. Why they were trying. Billy asked him if he still read books, and he said that sometimes. But he had barely read anything since Silver had brought him here.  
  
“Why did you give it up?” Billy asked suddenly, and it took a few seconds for Flint to realise he had mentioned Silver out loud. “What did he do to convince you? I would’ve never though you would…”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Or that you even _could_ ,” Billy said. “I used to think that you’re… that you don’t mean to be… that you aren’t _bad_ , you’re just so mixed up in all that that you can’t really see people anymore. We were just pawns in your game.”  
  
“It wasn’t a game.”  
  
“In your war.”  
  
“It wasn’t supposed to be a war,” Flint said and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I think I just tried to make things right. In the beginning of it.”  
  
He glanced at Billy. Billy was chewing on his lower lip.  
  
“I couldn’t make it right,” he said. “And I couldn’t stop.”  
  
“So Silver made you stop.”  
  
He looked away.  
  
“You would’ve never listened to me.”  
  
“No,” he said, “no, I wouldn’t have. I don’t know why I listened to him.”  
  
“Maybe you were tired.”  
  
“I’ve been tired for a long time.”  
  
“He’s good at convincing people.”  
  
“I used to be good at that too.”  
  
“You still are,” Billy said, looking straight at him. “Are you going to leave? Nassau, I mean?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Where’re you going to go?”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“When?”  
  
He opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Soon.”  
  
“I think I’m going to leave too,” Billy said. “There’s nothing for me here now.”  
  
“Nothing for me here, either.”  
  
“Except your house.”  
  
“I lived here with her, you know,” Flint said. Of course Billy knew. He had asked questions about Miranda a long time ago. “It’s different now. This was her place. Her and mine. Now it’s just…”  
  
“Empty.” Billy cleared his throat. “You could take a wife. Maybe have children. You aren’t that old.”  
  
Flint laughed out loud.  
  
“No?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Billy crossed his arms over his chest. Flint tried not to smile. If Billy was doing that on purpose, he was _good._  
  
“What?” Billy asked.  
  
“Your arms.”  
  
“My –“ Billy paused. “Bloody hell. Captain, you’re…”  
  
“An idiot,” Flint said, leaning back in his chair. “But no, I’m not going to marry a woman and have children. I’m not going to live a life like they want me to. Not after all this time.”  
  
“I’m not sure you should let them decide that for you,” Billy said slowly. “Either way.”  
  
“Why the fuck do you care, anyway? You know a nice girl you’d like to introduce to me?”  
  
“Hell, no,” Billy said. Now he was smiling a little. It was good that the beard was gone. Flint didn’t miss it at all.  
  
“I think,” he said and took a deep breath, “I _think_ if you don’t have anywhere else you’d rather be, you can sleep here tonight.”  
  
Billy stared at him. “It’s pretty late.”  
  
“Yeah. And I have space.”  
  
Billy nodded.  
  
“And tomorrow,” Flint said, “if you don’t have anything else planned, maybe you would like to fuck me again.”  
  
Billy chewed on his lower lip. “Again?”  
  
“Or something else.”  
  
“Or something else –“  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Billy was staring at him with narrowed eyes. He waited. Maybe Billy would point out that it was a completely different thing to fuck in the evening and then leave than to fuck in the evening, then stay for the night and fuck in the morning, too. A completely different thing. And what would they do after, have breakfast? Tea?  
  
But Billy didn’t say a word about any of that. He took a deep breath and nodded. “I can just fuck you,” he said. “I don’t need anything fancy.”  
  
“Good,” Flint said, grabbing his own knees under the table. He felt a little unsteady. “Because I’m not a fancy man.”  
  
Billy smiled. “Liar.”  
  
  
  
**  
  
  
They fucked again in the morning. He woke up to Billy watching him from too close and too carefully. He blinked and shifted on the mattress, and Billy sighed, reached across the inches of empty space in between their bodies and started undressing him. He let it happen. He looked at Billy’s hands, let Billy tug his shirt up and undo his trousers and push them down. Eventually Billy had him naked. He pushed Billy’s hands away when the man started taking off his own clothes, then did it himself, undressed Billy and then lay back when Billy sighed and wrapped fingers around his dick. He tried not to sound broken. Billy tugged once and twice and he wanted to tell Billy to stop playing and fuck him, but for some reason he couldn’t. Not right now. He closed his eyes for a second and opened them again when Billy climbed onto him. He wondered if Billy was going to kiss him, and then Billy kissed him.  
  
After, they had tea. There were clouds on the sky, which seemed odd. Billy was quiet but ate everything Flint gave him, and when Flint ran out of food, Billy stood for a while on the porch, looking at nothing, with his arms crossed over his chest again. Flint settled at his side. They probably looked ridiculous. Billy was still flushed from the sex and also he was so tall he almost hit his head on the ceiling of the porch. And Flint certainly didn’t want to think about how he looked like.  
  
“If you stay on the island for a few days,” he said, not looking at Billy, “you can come back here.”  
  
Billy nodded. “Alright.”  
  
  
**  
  
**  
  
  
2.  
  
  
Two days later, he heard the steps when Billy was already on the porch. He got up, walked to the door and found Billy standing on his porch.  
  
“Captain,” Billy said.  
  
“Come in,” Flint said. “I was just about to make some tea.” He walked to the stove but Billy followed him, and when he reached for the kettle, Billy was there on his way. He pushed a little. Billy grabbed his wrist and squeezed it lightly, and he kissed Billy on the mouth, only he had to rise on his toes to do that.  
  
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here,” Billy said but kissed him back.  
  
He made Billy fuck him in the bed. Then they had tea. It was only afternoon and he had been meaning to do something about the North wall of the house. When he said it out loud, it wasn’t an invitation, but Billy helped him anyway. In the evening, he watched as Billy cleaned himself with a wet cloth, crouched on the floor. He wondered if Billy even realised how much younger he was. He could have still gone somewhere else and forgotten. Unlike Flint.  
  
“Come on,” Billy said in the bed, shifted closer to him until his back was pressed against Billy’s chest, and pushed a hand inside his pants. He meant to say that they could do this properly. Billy could fuck him again. He could take it. And if he was still a little sore from earlier, what the fuck did that matter? He didn’t say anything. He stayed lying on his side and let Billy jerk him off with a gentle grip and his other arm closing around Flint’s chest as if he was _trying_ to keep Flint close. He came in Billy’s hand and Billy let him gather his breath for a moment, and then said that he didn’t need to when he settled in between Billy’s sprawled legs, leaned down and took Billy’s dick in his mouth. He supposed he had never done this to Billy. And Billy sounded surprised alright, kept trying to hold onto his shoulders, as if worried about drifting away otherwise. Or maybe he was worried that Flint might stop. But he wasn’t going to, no, he had Billy’s cock in his mouth, heavy against his tongue and throat, and when Billy began to lose control he started thrusting against Flint’s throat without realising it, and the noises he made, and the grip of his fingers on Flint’s shoulders, and the sound of his voice when he started swearing, and the way he went quiet after he came, they were all good.  
  
“Why did you –?” he asked Flint when he had been lying on the bed for a while, breathing hard and still trembling a little.  
  
“No reason,” Flint said, his voice coming out hoarse. He climbed out of the bed and got himself a glass of water. When he came back, Billy was looking at him from the bed.  
  
“Captain –“  
  
“My name,” he began and cleared his throat. “You know my name’s not really Flint.”  
  
Billy nodded, looking like he didn’t know what was going on anymore.  
  
“It was McGraw. It used to be McGraw. But I can’t… I’m not that man anymore, and I can’t be, but I don’t think I can be Flint either.” He sat down on the edge of the mattress. “Maybe you should call me James.”  
  
“I don’t know if I can,” Billy said slowly and then was quiet for a while. “Captain, I… I’ve been thinking about why I’m… It made sense to trust you before. Even though you weren’t really trustworthy. But it was the only way we could go forward. But now…”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“It doesn’t make sense,” Billy said. “That I’m in your bed. I can’t possibly trust you. Not after anything.”  
  
“Don’t trust me then,” he said and lay down next to Billy.  
  
“But what does it say about me? I really thought I hated you, and then I just…”  
  
“That you’re an idiot,” he said and tucked the duvet to cover them both up to the chin. “I’ve been thinking that I should do something about the roof. Maybe tomorrow.”  
  
  
**  
  
**  
  
  
3.  
  
  
He saw Silver in Nassau. He hadn’t mean to go there, but they were running out of supplies, he and Billy, and Billy hadn’t seemed eager to go. So, he left Billy in the house and walked to the town, and after five minutes Silver came to him.  
  
They had a drink in the tavern. He didn’t feel exactly steady, so he tried to avoid looking Silver in the eyes for too long, and Silver was staring at him as if wondering who he was now. They talked a little bit about Nassau and about how everything was going. Silver said they were about to leave, Madi and him, for good, soon, and asked him for how long he was going to say. And then Silver said he had heard Billy was living with Flint now.  
  
“Where did you hear that?”  
  
“In town,” Silver said, watching him. “Apparently everyone knows.”  
  
He cleared his throat.  
  
“It’s true, then.”  
  
“He’s not _living_ with me,” he said. “He’s just… he hasn’t left yet.”  
  
“But he’s planning to.”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“You don’t know?”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
“Billy Bones is living in your house,” Silver said slowly, “with you, and you don’t know if he’s going to leave.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Flint –“  
  
He looked away.  
  
“How can you not know?” Silver asked.  
  
“We don’t talk about things like that.”  
  
“What do you talk about then?”  
  
“I don’t know. Not much.”  
  
“Listen,” Silver said, leaning towards him over the table. “Maybe you should be careful. Billy hates you.”  
  
He had to bite his lip not to smile. Still, he failed. “Yeah, I know. I’m not stupid.”  
  
Silver was looking at him as if that was unclear.  
  
“My life’s over,” he said and was a little surprised about how bitter he still sounded. “Both of my lives are over. If he wants to stay with me for a while –“  
  
“What if he stabs you in the heart?”  
  
“He‘s not going to do that,” he said. He was almost sure about that. “And anyway, it’d be a fitting end.”  
  
“You could become someone else,” Silver said, looking him in the eyes. “I told you so. On the Skeleton Island. You’ve done that before, you can do that again. But this time, become someone who can live in peace. And be happy.”  
  
He smiled.  
  
“Well, then become someone who can at least _live._ ”  
  
“I can’t,” he said, straightening his back. “I can’t do it again. I’ve got nothing left in me. I’m just… I’m just a tired old man living in my house because I don’t have enough left in me to leave.”  
  
“With Billy Bones. You’re living with Billy Bones.”  
  
He sighed. “So it would seem.”  
  
Silver stared at him for a while, looking like he wanted to ask something else too. But he didn’t.  
  
“What?” Billy asked an hour later, stopping to look at him as he walked to the house. “What happened?”  
  
“Nothing,” he said and sat down on the first step of the stairs. God, he was tired. “I met Silver.”  
  
“You –“  
  
“Or he met me. I guess he found me on purpose.”  
  
“He’s still in town?”  
  
“He says he’s about to leave.”  
  
Billy cleared his throat. “And what did you –“  
  
“He knows you’re living here. Apparently everyone knows.”  
  
Billy stared at him.  
  
“I don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks,” he said, “not anymore. But of course you’re free to leave anytime you want.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Billy said and frowned. “Did you get nails? I thought I could fix the kitchen window today.”  
  
  
**  
  
**  
  
  
4.  
  
  
“It’s Christmas in two weeks.”  
  
He blinked and looked over his shoulder. He was trying to wash his face with a wet cloth, and what he didn’t need was Billy Bones to distract him, sitting at his kitchen table without a shirt and talking about _Christmas._ “What?”  
  
“You remember what that is?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I remember.” That was as good as a lie.  
  
“Liar,” Billy said, smiling a little. “I really hope you’re getting something for me. For Christmas.”  
  
“What, are you getting me something?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And what’s that?” he asked, turning to face Billy. “Maybe fuck me through the mattress? Is that it? My Christmas present?”  
  
“No,” Billy said slowly, inspecting him, “you’re getting that everyday anyway. You really are a lucky man.”  
  
He didn’t point out that they hadn’t fucked for almost a week now. He had a feeling that whatever was going on in between them was built on an understanding that it was mostly about fucking. That the essence of it, the essence of why Billy Bones had lived with him in this house for months now and had helped him to fix it and had rearranged the furniture and insulted his skills on decoration, the essence of all that was that he wanted someone to fuck him and Billy was amenable. It was most certainly a lie and he suspected they both knew it anyway. No reason to talk about it.  
  
“So,” he said, “what do you want for Christmas? If fucking me isn’t enough?”  
  
“Well, it’s plenty,” Billy said. “And I don’t know. You’ll figure something. You’ve got imagination, Captain.”  
  
“Captain?” So, this was one of those days then.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that. You know you like it.”  
  
“What I’d like,” he said to Billy, “would be if you could stop talking nonsense for a second and let me finish with this. I feel like I’ve been swimming in mud.”  
  
“Go ahead, then,” Billy said and was quiet for a moment. “How’s your knee?”  
  
“My _knee._ ”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have told you about my knee.”  
  
“Just tell me when it’s bothering you and I’ll do the heavy lifting.”  
  
“Because you’re so much younger.” And prettier. And taller. And a better man, despite everything. Sometimes he still stopped to wonder how the hell he had managed to get Billy Bones in his bed, and why Billy hadn’t yet left him. But he supposed there were just some things in life that couldn’t be explained. And there wasn’t much else to do about it than live one day at a time, trying not to be scared to the bone about the thought that eventually, he would lose this quiet weird life that was much more than bearable in most days. He hadn’t told Billy that he had begun to think he loved Billy in a way. Billy kept his ghosts silent. Billy slept in his bed and fucked him and told him when he was being an idiot, and once, Billy had hit him. He supposed he had had that coming, since he had pretty much killed Billy twice. And now he wanted to sleep with Billy’s arm draped over his waist every night, and even if he didn’t call that love out loud, he was pretty sure Billy saw through him. It was scary as hell. And the only thing that made sense to him anymore. What a fitting end for a broken man.  
  
“James?”  
  
He blinked. “Yeah. Sorry.”  
  
“A pony,” Billy said slowly, watching him. “I want a pony for Christmas.”  
  
“I’m not going to get you a pony.” _Shit,_ he would have to get Billy Bones a pony.  
  
“Sure you are. Come on. Wash your face and come here. I’m making breakfast.”  
  
He washed his face and walked to Billy. They were both quite bad at cooking but he supposed they would learn. If they still had time.


End file.
